The Dream of a Normal Death
by redstarsarc
Summary: *SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR* All those who died by Thanos' hand wake up in a place so far from home. Now they need to find their way back and resume the war against Thanos. But in order to do so, they first need to find the gateway to the land of the living and defeat the tyrannical Ghost King.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Man, Infinity War was crazy, huh? This is just a fun piece featuring all the characters who died and what if more than oblivion awaited them? Yes, I took this title from Doctor Who. No, it's not a crossover. I just thought it was appropriate. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Dr. Strange awoke with a start. For several seconds, he couldn't breathe as if all the oxygen had been pulled from his lungs. He rolled over in the grass, gasping, and finally managed to get air. His heart pounded in his ears.

The air smelled of fresh water and grass. Slowly, Strange sat up and took in his surroundings.

He was in a lush field, green grass whispering in the breeze and rippling like water. The sky was clear and blue. The land rolled into hills and there was not a single tree, flower, or blemish in sight. Or another soul.

His cloak waved in the breeze and brushed his arm reassuringly.

With a jolt, he remembered Titan. Thanos. Stark, the kid, and the Guardians. And he remembered the cool kiss of water against his skin and then a pleasant numbness as his hands turned to ash in front of his eyes. And then nothing. And then here.

What was this place? He hadn't seen it in his visions. Was that because this place was beyond his ability to see? Or because it existed within a possibility he had not seen?

Whatever the case, he needed to get out of here. He needed to get back to Earth and find Thanos.

Concentrating, he drew circles in the air, visualizing the interior of the Sanctum Sanctorum. His fingers trailed sparks but that was it. Gritting his teeth, he tried again. Still nothing. It reminded him of the time the Ancient One had stranded him on Everest and the desperation he'd felt, the determination to succeed. But he'd come a long way since then. Whatever this place was, it was affecting his powers.

He came to the conclusion that he wasn't on Earth. He was pretty sure he was no longer on Titan, either. Had he been teleported here by someone? So many questions in need of answers. Answers he'd never get just standing around.

Strange started walking.

The wind never ceased and seemed never to change direction or speed. He walked with his back to it, up the hill. Each step increased his resolve. He would shortly find out where he was and get out of here. He certainly hadn't sacrificed the Time Stone only to have Thanos win.

As he crested the hill, he spotted a body at the base of it, a woman lying on her side. He hurried down the hill, hoping she was alive and that she wasn't an enemy. When he reached her, he rolled her over onto her back and brushed the red hair from her face and he realized with relief that her breathing was steady.

"Miss?" A cursory examination didn't reveal any injuries. "Miss?"

With a gasp, the woman sat up and then winced and fell back, clutching her head.

"Hey, easy," Strange said. "Let me look at you. I'm a doctor."

"My head," she groaned.

Strange coaxed her hands away from her face and examined her, wishing he had his instruments. But after a few quick tests and gentle questioning, he thought she'd be fine. It was a severe headache, but she would live.

"Can you stand?"

She allowed him to help her to her feet. "Who are you?" she asked. "Where are we?"

"Dr. Strange," he answered. "Well, Stephen Strange. As for where we are, I was hoping you'd know."

The woman looked around as if hoping to spot something familiar. "Are we still on Earth?"

Strange stiffened. "Do you mind me asking what happened to you before you woke up here?"

"I…" She narrowed her eyes, trying to remember. "I was fighting, I was…" Here, she took in a shaky breath and her eyes widened. "Oh God, Vis. He killed him. He killed Vis."

Strange grabbed her shoulders, trying to keep her focused. "Who?" But with a sinking feeling, he already knew.

"Thanos," the woman whispered. "He got the last Stone. And then…I don't know what happened, but it was peaceful. The world just faded away."

So what had happened wasn't confined to Titan.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The woman tried hard to hold back tears. "Wanda Maximoff. I was with the Avengers."

The Avengers.

Strange straightened. "Then we'd better hurry up and find out where we are. We need to get back to Earth."

"Look!" Wanda pointed and Strange tensed, ready for a fight when a figure appeared over one of the hills. He still had all his aches from fighting Thanos and he was tired and the last thing he wanted right now was a fight.

But as the figure approached, Wanda's expression turned into one of relief. "It's Sam. Sam!" She waved at him.

Another Avenger?

"Wanda." At the sight of her, Sam broke into a jog and when the two of them met, they embraced. "Thank God. I didn't think I would find anyone here. I've been wandering around for an hour. Where are we? Who's that?"

"I don't know," Wanda said. "That's Dr. Strange. We need to get out of here."

"I know." Sam's voice was subdued. "When I saw myself dissolving, I thought I was dead."

"You dissolved?" Strange said, perking up. "The same happened to Miss Maximoff and myself.

"Some type of teleportation, maybe?" Sam said.

"Thanos," Wanda said, venom in her voice.

"But why would he…?"

"Think about what he wants," Strange said. "He has all the Infinity Stones."

"What…?" Sam's eyes widened. "Oh, crap."

"Exactly," Strange said. "I think he succeeded."

Wanda's brow wrinkled. "So what are you saying? That we're dead?"

"Come on, wouldn't we know if we'd died?" Sam said, trying to convince himself as much as them.

"Have you ever died?" Strange said in the tone of one who'd had way too much experience on the matter.

"Good point."

"I suggest we get moving. If we ended up here because of Thanos, there will no doubt be others."

On that, they all agreed and so began walking. Strange's mind was racing. If it was true that they were dead, was this the afterlife? He was a strict atheist and had always considered the idea of gods and ghosts, heaven and hell, to be nothing more than silly myths people kept in order to delude themselves into thinking they were important. Of course, since his accident, he'd seen and done many things he would have thought impossible. Was it so farfetched that an afterlife existed too? He hadn't seen it during his multitude of deaths at the hands of Dormammu, but then again, none of those deaths had really happened since they'd all occurred within a time loop.

They must have walked for at least an hour when they came across a forest. Thin, willowy trees swayed in the constant wind, their branches thin and drooping to the ground like the branches of willows. But they only served to increase Strange's unease. Just like the grasslands, there was no sign of wildlife. No birds, no chirping insects, no scampering squirrels or snakes hiding in the grass. It was a barren, beautiful world.

It wasn't long before they came across a man sitting with his back to a tree. With a jolt of recognition, Strange assumed a defensive stance, clenching his fists and forming twin tao mandalas, ignoring the looks of alarm his companions gave him.

Of all the people he might have run into, this was the _last_ one he'd expected to see. One he hoped he'd never see again, even after their single and very brief recent encounter.

"Loki," he said grimly.

At the sound of his voice, the prince of Asgard looked over his shoulder at them. His expression was calm and assessing. And as Strange slowly approached, he noticed that Loki had an open book in his lap.

"If it isn't the wizard. Bite off more than you could chew, did you?" Loki said.

"Wait. Loki?" Sam said. " _The_ Loki? As in the attack on New York?"

"The very same," Strange said. "I'm warning you. No tricks."

Loki snorted. "I'm done for the moment. Thought I'd get in some reading." He held up his book.

"Do you honestly expect us to believe you're just here on holiday? I don't trust you and I have no qualms about repeating the nature of our last encounter." He wasn't even sure if this place would allow it but he hoped Loki didn't see his uncertainty.

Loki's lips thinned. Snapping the book shut, he stood and held out his hands. "I assure you I have no intention of fighting you. I think we have a common enemy."

"By that reasoning alone, I should trust you?"

Loki's mouth curved into a disarming grin. "You sure have missed a lot. The battle for the Aether. My noble sacrifice. The time I swooped in to save Asgard's people during the apocalypse."

"The time you sent Odin to a retirement home and took his place as king of Asgard," Strange added.

Loki gave a breathy laugh. "Well. Let's just say I learned my lesson and we can put the past behind us."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Sam said. "I wasn't there, but he killed a lot of people in New York. He betrayed Thor more than once."

Strange narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't right. Stooping, he picked up a rock and threw it. It passed straight through Loki's chest and the trickster gave a resigned sigh.

"I really need to do something about that," he said and vanished only for the real Loki to materialize behind Wanda, one arm around her chest, the other holding a knife to her throat.

"Now," he said. "I think it's time you put those away."

Strange met Loki's steady gaze and hesitated. Anywhere else, he would have used his teleportation to separate the two in a heartbeat, but here, he couldn't trust his own powers. He lowered his hands. The energy winked out.

"You are not going to cause me any problems," Loki said and Strange noticed dark bruises around his neck which the illusion had lacked. "You and I both want to kill Thanos. I would say that makes us allies, don't you –"

Wanda grabbed his wrist, stomped on his foot, and twisted in Loki's grip, slamming him with red energy. He flew back into the grass.

"Allies?" Wanda said. Energy curled around her upheld hands and spiraled up her arms and she kept it trained on Loki as he got back to his feet. "This should be interesting."

Strange sighed. More interesting than he would have liked.

* * *

T'Challa, exhausted, dragged himself out of the river and onto the rocky beach. Stones slid and shifted beneath his weight and frothing water tugged at him.

He'd woken up in the rush of the river's current, flailing and trying to keep his head above the water. Now he paused on the bank to get his breath back, water dripping from his hair and beard.

One glance at his surroundings told him that he was no longer in Wakanda. So his second order of business was to get his bearings. His first was survival. Locating food, shelter, and if possible, civilization.

Scratch that. The _first_ first order of business would be to deal with the green and red-skinned bald man standing farther down the beach. With a knife in each hand, he yelled and charged straight for T'Challa.

Shooting to his feet, T'Challa met him head on, extending his claws and mask as he did. Two knives came at him, one after the other. The first glanced off his arm, the second he kicked away. The bald man was still yelling and ducked T'Challa's next attack, dove for his second knife, and charged again.

T'Challa set his jaw and twisted to avoid the first thrust. He sank his claws into the man's shoulder and chest and overbalanced him. They both went down. T'Challa moved to pin the man's arms but he was faster than T'Challa had expected and flipped him over. Before he could get the upper hand, T'Challa rolled away and sprang to his feet.

This was definitely an alien. One of Thanos' followers?

T'Challa tensed, waiting for the man to charge at him again, though he wasn't worried. Nothing was getting through his vibranium.

"I would advise you to surrender," T'Challa said. This alien wasn't anything like the others he'd fought. Maybe he could get some answers out of him.

"Ha!" the man barked. "Drax the Destroyer does not give up so easily." Then he charged again.

The two clashed, Drax raining blows down on T'Challa as T'Challa twisted and spun, kicked and clawed, staying always in motion. He hooked a leg around Drax's and they went down again. This time, T'Challa pinned him with hands and knees. Drax struggled but T'Challa didn't let up.

"Surrender!" T'Challa said.

Drax continued to struggle. "Never!"

"Surrender!" T'Challa repeated.

"How about you surrender?" said an unfamiliar voice and a gun was pressed to the back of his head. "And get off my friend."

T'Challa slowly turned his head to face the newcomer but didn't loosen his hold. "Lower your weapon. I would have preferred diplomacy over violence but your alien friend attacked me first. It's terribly difficult to get answers from a dead man."

The newcomer's mouth tightened. "I am so not in the mood right now." T'Challa was shocked by the sheer anger in his voice and in his eyes.

"Wait!" someone called. "Wait!" A figure emerged from the trees. "Don't shoot. He's a friend."

T'Challa lowered his mask. "Bucky?"

"Wait, you know this guy?"

Bucky stopped a few feet away from them. "He's the king of Wakanda. A friend."

"Oh. A _king_. Well don't expect an apology, _your Majesty_. I've just had the suckiest day in the history of suckiest days."

T'Challa finally stood, allowing Drax up. He glanced at Bucky.

"So he is not working for Thanos?"

"What? No. God." The man lowered his gun. "This is the second time today I've been accused of working for Thanos. What is it? It's the beard, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's definitely the beard," Drax agreed.

By this point, T'Challa was fairly certain this was just a misunderstanding. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Peter Quill. But you can call me Star-Lord."

T'Challa nodded. "And do you know where we are?" He couldn't remember much, just a comforting coolness blanketing him.

"No idea," Quill said though it was no more than T'Challa had expected.

"That is why I fought him," Drax said. "My knives always make people talk." He held them threateningly and took a step forward and T'Challa thought he was going to attack him again."

"Whoa, _that's_ why you attacked him?"

Drax pointed at T'Challa with a knife. "He is probably responsible for what happened to us. We are all dead."

Quill snorted. "Oooookay. Maybe just put the knives away, buddy."

But Drax's words sent a shiver of uneasiness through T'Challa. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"What?"

T'Challa met Quill's gaze. "What is the last thing you remember."

"I was on Titan."

"And then?"

"I…" His eyes went wide. "Oh no. You've got to be kidding me."

"We dissolved into ash," Drax said, confirming T'Challa's fear. "It was very pleasant."

"That's the same thing that happened to me," Bucky said.

"So…Thanos won?" Quill's voice had lost its anger.

"I am afraid so."

"Aw man…you think he killed us? So what is this…the afterlife or something?"

T'Challa looked around, taking in the thin trees, the rushing river, the expanse of blue sky. "Or something."

"We should move," Bucky said. "Scope out the area. If this was Thanos' doing, we won't be the only ones."

"I agree. We should follow the river."

But Quill wasn't listening to him. His eyes were wide and stared at nothing.

"Hey, Quill," Drax said.

T'Challa thought something was wrong with him except that the look in his eyes, it wasn't fear or shock. It was desperation. It was tentative hope.

"Quill?" T'Challa said.

Finally, Quill seemed to hear them and in response, he uttered a single word.

"Gamora."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and followed. Knowing that someone somewhere likes your work is the greatest feeling. So without further ado, onward to chapter 2.**

* * *

"Ow!"

Gamora winced as she pulled herself up into a sitting position against the tree. Her arms were covered in bruises and she was sure at least one rib was cracked. She'd found a few cuts which had stopped bleeding even though she didn't remember getting them. Her neck ached and she rubbed it, trying to massage the stiffness from her muscles. Her side twinged when she raised her arm and she winced again.

It didn't help that she was being stared at.

"What?" she said, lowering her arm.

"I am Groot."

She sighed. "I know, I know."

"I am Groot."

"What do you want me to say, huh? I don't know where we are." It was just trees everywhere and a constant breeze. The air was surprisingly warm.

Gamora looked down at her hands. Two of her fingers were dark with bruises and one of her nails was broken. Blood was caked under her nails and around her cuticles. The memory of Quill's face as she'd last seen him, came unbidden to her mind. The promise he couldn't keep.

Everything that had happened on Vormir came back to her in a rush and she gasped. Thanos. She hadn't thought he'd actually do it. She could still feel his hands on her, see the tears in his eyes, and then she'd been out in the air. A moment of breathlessness and a moment of pain.

Gamora realized she was crying.

"I am Groot," Groot said softly.

That meant that Thanos had the Soul Stone. And that made her wonder. Had he always known the price for it? Had he…had he adopted her for that purpose?

"I am Groot." Groot's eyes were large with concern.

"I'm fine." Gamora wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying not to wince with the pain of it. "We need to look around, get our bearings." She sniffled and pulled herself to her feet. Despite her aches and twinges, she could still walk and she still had a knife in her belt.

She didn't recognize the planet though. And she couldn't figure out how she'd gotten here from Vormir. The only thing she could think of was that someone had found her, resuscitated her, and dumped her here though for whatever purpose, she couldn't figure out.

Groot was no help. He'd found her lying in the forest and had no idea how he'd ended up there either.

"Do you hear that?" Gamora said. "I think there's water nearby." The sound was very faint but unmistakable. It was a start.

The forest grew thicker as they made their way, and the ground morphed into slopes bristling with tiny blue flowers and scrubby bushes. Her thighs ached with each step uphill and she imagined her body breaking on the rocks below the cliff, Thanos gazing down at her. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. That couldn't be what had happened. She'd survived. Somehow she'd survived. And she was going to find the rest of the Guardians. She was going to find Quill and then she would make Thanos pay for what he'd done.

"I am Groot," Groot said in a worried tone of voice.

Gamora looked out over the forest and her eyes widened. "Aw hell," she said and slipped the knife from her belt.

Flowing among the trees like water was a horde of silent, black figures. They were coming this way.

* * *

"That didn't feel anything like I thought it would. I mean, it was pretty scary and weird and I thought I was going to die but it actually didn't feel like much. Did it feel like anything to you? Where are we, anyway?"

"Peter," Mantis said. "I don't know."

"Right. Uh, sorry." Okay, just keep breathing. "Aunt May's gonna be worried sick." Peter had already checked his phone but it was dead. It probably wouldn't have mattered anyway because he didn't think they were on Earth.

So what had happened?

He saw himself dissolving.

 _I thought I was dying._

And Peter had seen something he never thought he'd see. There was fear in Mr. Stark's eyes. He'd thought Peter was dying too.

A sick feeling started up in Peter's stomach and he had to stop walking.

Mantis realized this and looked back, her black eyes wide with worry. "Peter, what is wrong?" She refrained from touching him. Probably because the last time, when they'd first run into each other here, Peter had freaked out a little.

"Oh, geez. I don't know if I can do this." This wasn't supposed to happen. They were the good guys, right? And good guys always win. "I should have listened to Mr. Stark. I'm way over my head here. I mean, I'm just a kid. I still have school…and homework…and, you know, kid stuff."

"Peter," Mantis said. "Breathe."

 _Breathe._

"Okay. Okay." Peter breathed.

"Calm," she said.

"I'm calm, I'm calm." _I'm so not calm._

Mantis reached out to touch his arm. "Calm."

A wave of calm washed over him. "This is seriously freaky."

"You will get back home. But first we must find the others."

"The others. Right."

Mantis let him go and he opened his eyes, having not even realized he'd closed them.

"Do you think Mr. Stark is here?" Before Mantis could reply, he added, "Right. You don't know. Sorry." But the thought made him feel better. Mr. Stark would know where they were and he'd know how to get them back home.

But even so, he couldn't get that look out of his mind, the shock and fear on Mr. Stark's face. He only hoped he wouldn't be angry with him, using what happened as proof that Peter wasn't ready to be an Avenger.

He couldn't help but think Mr. Stark was right.

Suddenly, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose and Peter was jolted out of his thoughts. There was a commotion to his right.

"Come on," he said and took to the trees without looking to see if Mantis was following. "Whoa," he added as the branches dipped alarmingly under his weight. But they held and he went higher, afraid they might bend too much and smack him into the ground.

When he reached the source of the sounds, he clung to a tree overlooking the area.

"Holy crap, what are those?"

A small army of black-robed figures had amassed below and he caught the glint of blades. That was evil if he ever saw it. A green-skinned woman was moving in an impressive display of defense, whirling and slashing at them with a knife. And snagging at the figures, dragging and tossing them with snaking tendrils…was that a _tree?_

Shooting a web several trees over, Peter swung from his perch and kicked one of the figures in the shoulder, sending it flying several feet.

"That's not very nice you know, ganging up on a girl," Peter said as he landed and several figures turned their attention on him. "Whoa, dude, I think there's something wrong with your face."

One of the figures swiped at him and he back-flipped over the blade and shot web into its face. "Seriously though, you should have that looked at." Aliens. They were definitely aliens. No need to dwell on the fact that they had no skin on their skulls. Another swiped at him and he leaped, kicking it in the face and it dropped its blade.

Yep, it was a scythe.

Mantis finally emerged from the woods but Peter would have been more relieved if she didn't double over, panting, right on the edge of the battleground.

Two more of the figures – Reapers – converged on him and he shot upward again, swinging around the perimeter of the battle. But the branch he'd attached to swayed and he realized it wasn't a branch at all, but the elongated arm of the tree alien. The movement shook him free and he dropped to the ground right in front of the green lady.

"Hi," he said. _Oh, that sounded so stupid._

"Hi," the green lady said before shoving him aside and planting her knife in a Reaper's eye socket. When she removed it, the Reaper disintegrated into such a fine dust it floated and was whisked away in the wind.

Peter shot twin webs at two Reapers behind the green lady and bashed their heads together while she decapitated another.

"You a friend of Thor?" The green lady spun and kicked one Reaper into another directly behind it.

Peter shot a bolt of webbing at a Reaper, sending it reeling straight into a viny arm which lifted it and hurled it away. "Yeah, I don't know him." He shot upward and came down on another Reaper, turning it to dust. "I've seen him on Youtube, though. That dude's so cool."

Something smashed into Peter and he went flying, landing in a heap on the ground.

Okay, maybe he should start focusing.

A Reaper loomed over him and brought its blade down and he rolled out of the way, springing back to his feet. Another slashed his shoulder and he jerked away, realizing that there were simply too many of them. He shot webs into their faces but they didn't have eyes so it didn't seem to deter them. One slashed at his ribs and another went for his throat and he shot a web toward a branch, intending to yank himself out of danger, but a scythe flicked out, snapping the thread.

Peter pried at the hands around his throat. They were surprisingly strong for not having any muscle on them.

There was a shout and Mantis leaped onto the Reaper's back, grabbing its head in her hands. Her antennae glowed. The Reaper let go of Peter and threw her off.

"Mantis!" Peter shouted and took to the air. What he saw, circling the battle, brought his heart into his throat. The green lady had been disarmed and several Reapers had her, though she struggled and cursed. They'd also brought the tree down. Too many. There were too many.

Mantis tried to evade them but one grabbed her by the arm and towed her along. Her power was useless here. No brains.

Peter dropped down and kicked the Reaper holding Mantis. He spun and flipped as blades whirled but he took several blows, one of which knocked him down and winded him.

"Mantis." He shot a web upward and reached out a hand for her.

"Peter!" she cried as hands grabbed her, pulling her back. "Run!"

"I can't! Grab my hand."

The fear in her eyes was palpable. "Run. _Please._ "

But he couldn't, not when someone was in danger, not even in the face of overwhelming numbers. If he could just reach her…

His gaze was locked with hers so he saw the moment she realized what was happening. Her eyes widened a fraction, her lips parted in a gasp, and then she was gone in an explosion of dust along with her captors.

He had no time to dwell on it as the green lady and the tree were also gone but a handful of Reapers remained, coming for him. He flew up into the trees, a thousand thoughts flitting through his mind. He told himself they weren't dead, they couldn't be dead, as he did what Mantis said. He ran.

And he didn't look back.

* * *

Wanda spun through the air and landed in a crouch, ignoring the cut on her cheek as she drew red energy into her hands.

She saw the face of Thanos as he bore down on her and the memory fueled the fire within her. With an enraged shout, she released the energy in a cone in front of her but something smashed her from behind, sending her flying. She quickly scrambled to her feet but instead of bearing down on her, the creature's attention was fixed on something else.

Wanda herself, lying on the ground and clutching at a wound in her side. Eyes wide, she tried to scramble away from the Reaper as it raised its scythe.

The real Wanda hit it in the back and it disintegrated. She glanced over her shoulder at Loki. Their eyes met for a second and then she ran back into the fray.

Thanos, coming to kill Vision. Anger boiled her blood and sent shivers running along her flesh and she lashed out, catching a horde of Reapers and reducing them to dust.

Above the battle, Sam swooped and fired his guns at the Reapers while Strange burned them to cinders with his energy whip.

The creatures had come out of nowhere. But if they thought their ghoulish appearance would frighten them, they were mistaken.

A Reaper came at her, scythe raised to slice through her neck. She grabbed the creature's bony wrist, hands crackling with energy, and used her other hand to break its neck.

An armored Reaper, bigger and stronger than the rest, swiped Sam out of the air and shot something at Wanda, a bolt of black energy which barely missed, singeing a hole in the ground. She fired back at it but a transparent shield materialized, deflecting and dissipating her energy.

Vision had looked into her eyes as she'd done it, told her that it was okay as tears streamed down her face. But she'd done it. She'd unleashed the full brunt of her powers, enveloping them both in white, dazzling light. She'd killed him and she'd killed a part of herself too.

Wanda charged at the armored Reaper. Its eye sockets glowed with a hellish light and its shield shimmered and she gritted her teeth and she ran.

A sparking golden portal flickered into existence and she leaped through, plunging her energy-infused hands into the Reaper's back. The creature toppled and she tumbled as it disintegrated.

Across the battlefield, Sam dove, wings slicing through Reapers and he snatched Loki who'd been cornered, pulling him up into the air. Loki sent two knives hurling at a pair of Reapers before vanishing into a portal. Sam spun in mid-air and shot a Reaper that was charging up behind Strange while Loki landed on the one Reaper Wanda hadn't seen, plunging a knife into the base of its skull.

Thanos had very nearly lost. But to Wanda's horror, he had the Time Stone and he'd used it to bring Vision back and he'd murdered him a second time.

Wanda's anger turned into white-hot rage. Red energy spread up her arms and her eyes glowed and a wave washed over the field, disintegrating all the Reapers it touched.

And then it was over.

Wanda lowered her hands and ran over to where Sam and Strange were landing. Sam gripped an injured but alive Reaper. One of its hands was missing and a crack ran across one empty eye socket.

Everyone gathered around to watch its struggles but Sam kept it in a firm grip.

"Who do you work for?" Strange asked.

The Reaper remained silent.

"Come on. The silent treatment?" Strange scoffed. "I think we've earned a little more respect than that."

"These guys are fodder," Sam said. "Whoever sent them considers them expendable."

"So is that it then? Whatever you are, you're not afraid to die? Or whatever it is that happened to your buddies when they turned to dust?"

The Reaper seemed to focus on Strange as much as a being without eyes could focus. Then it spoke and its voice was hollow and resonant, seeming to come from no particular source. "He is coming. No matter how many of us it takes, he will have you."

"Who?"

A deep sigh like lips blowing across a clay jug.

"Who?" Strange demanded.

The Reaper seemed almost like it was laughing at them and the crack in its skull spread. Bone began to flake and splinter and its face caved in and it crumbled to dust.

Sam took a step back, a disgusted look on his face, and tried to wipe the dust from his hands.

Wanda was almost disappointed. She would have liked to kill it herself.

"Is it just me or was that maddeningly unhelpful?" Loki said.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky, T'Challa, Drax, and Quill crouched in the underbrush at the edge of the woods. Below them at the base of the slope was a compound that immediately put Bucky on edge. With a perimeter fence topped by barbed wire and a grid of uniform white buildings, it reminded him of an internment camp. Through the links of the fence, he could see people moving and it was obvious they weren't here of their own choosing. Shoulders slumped, heads bowed, they moved as if carrying a great weight on their shoulders. Many of them carried large packs or towed sleds laden with materials behind them.

"Well one thing's for sure," Quill said. "This isn't heaven."

"No kidding," Bucky murmured. Occasionally, black-robed figures moved among the people in the camp who shied away from them.

"This is wrong," T'Challa said and his voice was filled with barely contained rage. "We need to do something.

Quill shrugged. "Sounds reasonable. We go in there, guns blazing. Metal Arm here can karate chop those death guys' skulls off, Drax has his knives, and you can evacuate the prisoners."

"And get them killed in the process," T'Challa argued.

"Relax, Pussy Cat, we're dead, remember? They'll be fine."

T'Challa bristled. "You do not know that. None of us know anything about this place. We should err on the side of caution."

"I agree with T'Challa," Bucky said. "We should gather as much information as we can before going on the offensive."

Quill snorted. "Sure, if you want to do it the boring way. What about you, Drax? Any useful input? Drax?"

They all turned to look at Drax who was as still as a statue, staring into the compound without blinking. It was actually kind of freaky.

After a moment but without breaking his gaze, Drax said, "What."

Quill sighed. "Dude! Don't, just…don't. We can all see you."

"We should send someone in," T'Challa said. "Assess, gather intel, and report."

"Who would we send? You? No offense, but you stick out."

T'Challa seemed as if he were trying not to roll his eyes. "Well, we certainly can't send you. You would draw too much attention."

"I really don't think you're qualified to judge."

"I will go," Drax said.

"Out of the question," Quill and T'Challa said at the same time.

Bucky sighed. He'd expected it would come to this. "I'll go."

Before either of them could start arguing again, he left their cover and scurried down the slope. He watched the movements of the Reapers and saw his chance. Scaling the fence, he pressed the barbed wire down and away from him with his metal hand, and vaulted over, landing softly and quietly on the dirt. Then he pulled his jacket sleeve down over his arm and walked out from behind a building, affecting a beaten down posture.

He tried to keep his anger in check, but it was difficult. These people weren't just prisoners, they were slaves. Men, women, even children. Human and alien. He wanted so much to pull out a gun and turn it on their masters, but like T'Challa said, that would be foolish and risky. Even if they really were dead, something Bucky wasn't sure he quite believed.

He tried his best to avoid the Reapers but when he couldn't, he kept his gaze on his feet and tried to look like he knew where he was going.

There was the sound of a child crying. Bucky discreetly searched for the source and saw a girl, maybe five or six years old, her face dirty, clothes covered in grime. The child's mother held her in her arms and made gentle shushing noises while stroking the child's hair. Beside them sat a man and when he met Bucky's gaze, he was shocked by the intensity in the man's eyes.

He looked away quickly, not willing to be drawn into a fight and attract the attention of the Reapers. But now he knew. Not everyone here was resigned to their fate.

Some of them were fighters.

* * *

There was nothing for the rest of them to do but wait. T'Challa trusted that Bucky could take care of himself. It was the other two he wasn't so sure of.

"That woman you mentioned earlier," T'Challa said. "Who is she?"

A sadness came over Quill's eyes like a veil. "Gamora," he said. "She was my girl. _Is._ I'd do anything for her." The way he ended that sentence suggested he was leaving something out.

"I am sorry," T'Challa said.

Quill gritted his teeth. "Not as sorry as Thanos is going to be. When I see him again, I'm ripping that stupid gauntlet off his hand and shoving it down his throat."

 _If_ they saw Thanos again. But T'Challa didn't say it. He knew from experience how powerful a motivator vengeance could be.

* * *

Gamora restrained herself from cursing as she was shoved down onto her knees. Her hands were cuffed behind her back. Mantis and Groot were in the same position on either side of her. Bony fingers clamped onto her shoulders, keeping her down.

A tall Reaper loomed in front of her, its dark, empty eye sockets seeming to assess her.

"An interesting selection," the Reaper said in a voice like wind in a cave.

"It'd be more interesting if you took off these cuffs," Gamora said.

"A fiery spirit." The Reaper seemed amused. "You wouldn't be the first I've broken, nor will you be the last."

"I'm just saying, you'd better watch your back."

"And you shouldn't bother using your empathic powers here. Here, you are useless."

Mantis' antennae drooped. "I know."

The Reaper spared a glance at Groot but didn't seem to have anything scathing to say to him.

"You are strong," the Reaper said. "You will make good workers." He lifted one skeletal hand and two Reapers behind Gamora hauled her to her feet.

"Gamora!" Mantis gasped.

"I am Groot!" said Groot.

"I'll be fine," Gamora assured them as the Reapers dragged her away. She locked gazes with their leader, trying to say with her eyes that this was far from over.

The Reapers took her into a building that smelled like burning metal and sweat. Rows of conveyer belts carried steel plates which slaves carved into with large, industrial lasers that came down from the ceiling.

Gamora was brought to a gap in the line where the Reapers slapped a shackle around her ankle before finally uncuffing her wrists. She was given cursory instructions and a pair of goggles, and a heavy laser was lowered into position over her first plate.

Gamora gritted her teeth. She wanted to fight her way out of here and pull that lead Reaper's spine out through his throat. But now, without her allies and without her weapons, shackled and outnumbered, any attempt to escape would be futile. For now, she had no choice but to go along with it.

Gamora grasped the handles on either side of the laser, flipped the switch, and got to work.

* * *

Peter thought this forest would never end. He was pretty sure he'd lost his pursuers but with those freaky teleportation powers, he didn't want to take any chances.

"Okay Peter, you got this. Get help. How hard could that be? I mean, it'd be easier if there were actually people in these woods. And not the fleshless grim reaper kind, either." He shot from tree to tree, hoping he wasn't just going around in circles. He must have been out here for hours, but the sun hadn't moved at all since he'd woken up. That was weird. Maybe this planet had a really slow rotational period.

If he wasn't so freaked out and if this planet wasn't infested with Reapers, he'd have a field day exploring. As it was, all he wanted was to get home.

Two Reapers were walking through the woods and Peter clung to his tree, not daring to breathe. They moved silently, their robes swishing across the ground but neither held a weapon. They didn't notice Peter about fifty feet above their heads and he wondered if there was anything he could learn here. Did Reapers talk? Did they even have vocal cords? Speaking of tissue, how did their bones stay together without cartilage and ligaments? How did they move without muscles?

 _Okay, Peter, you're over-thinking it._

After all, it wasn't like everything Peter could do made a lot of sense either.

When the Reapers moved ahead of him a little ways, he silently swung to a tree in their direction. Maybe they would lead him to wherever they'd taken Mantis.

He followed them a ways, careful only to shoot his webs at branches that looked sturdy. It was unnerving how quietly they moved. They didn't engage in idle chatter like human soldiers would. Why didn't they just teleport to wherever they were going? Maybe it took more energy than they could spare to do it all the time.

One of the two Reapers suddenly stopped and went stiff. It's eye sockets began to glow white and the other Reaper turned to see what was wrong with its companion.

Oh no. They knew he was here. They'd heard him despite the fact that they didn't have ears. Peter readied himself for a fight, wondering how quickly they could call in reinforcements. They might be telepathic, after all, and he didn't like his chances against an army of them. He'd barely escaped from the last one.

But neither Reaper looked up at where he was hiding. Instead, the one with the glowing eyes began to speak.

"Too many have evaded the net," it said in a hollow voice with an undercurrent of something else, a second voice beneath the first. "You have grown complacent. You are slacking."

"Apologies, milord," the second Reaper said with a bow. "But with the number of souls –"

"That is _exactly_ why you cannot fail. Whatever catastrophe has befallen the living universe has left us many souls. I expect you to round them up promptly. Before they realize what is happening. Many of them will use tricks to deceive and confuse you but you mustn't let them."

"Of course, milord," the second Reaper said.

"Find them before they realize the truth. Even cowards learn courage in death. If they learn they are no longer in the living universe, they may believe consequences are beyond them."

"Of course, milord. Though that belief would be nothing but a delusion."

Peter almost fell out of the tree. He had to grip the branch tighter even as his heart caught in his throat and sweat broke out on his brow.

The living universe…

Courage in death…

His breathing was becoming uneven. How…how had he gotten here? What had happened before he'd woken up gasping in this endless forest?

Oh, God.

Mr. Stark. The fear in his eyes. The cool comfort that enveloped Peter like a blanket, like falling asleep and gently sinking into water. He'd tried not to think about it, tried not to dwell on the details. Someone must have saved him, he'd thought. Mr. Stark must have saved him but then they'd gotten separated.

He couldn't be dead.

"Go east from here. One of those who escaped cannot be far from your position. Find him."

They were talking about Peter.

The Reaper's eyes stopped glowing and the second one relayed to it everything that was said.

That was seriously freaky. It looked a lot like that Reaper had just been possessed.

It all made sense, really. Possession. The Reapers. The fact that he couldn't remember anything between Titan and here. He'd been dissolving. Only he hadn't been the only one.

He was dead.

But he _couldn't_ be.

But he was.

They'd lost.

The branch Peter was perched on cracked and he fell with a yelp, hitting the forest floor hard enough to wind him.

When he looked up, both Reapers were glaring down at him and scythes had materialized in their hands.

"Crap," Peter said and rolled away just as they attacked. He felt the air part with the passing of the blades and tried not to imagine how they would feel if they sliced him.

Springing to his feet, he shot a web at one of the Reapers' scythes and went to yank the weapon out of its hands. But the Reaper tightened its grip and spun the scythe in a blink, snipping the thread.

"That is so annoying," Peter said and shot back into the trees. Kicking off a trunk, he flew through the air and slammed into a Reaper, sending it off its feet. At the same moment, the other Reaper slashed him in the arm.

Pain lanced through him and he gasped. He hit the ground hard and rolled. That thing was _sharp._

"Okay," Peter said as he got back to his feet, clutching his arm. "Which of you is going to tell me where Mantis and those other guys are?"

In answer, the Reaper who'd slashed him became a blur, solidifying right in front of him, scythe raised.

Peter kicked it in the chest and pulled himself up onto a branch. Shooting a web at the Reaper's arm, he hoisted it into the air and immediately went after the second Reaper. His arm hurt and he kept moving, trying to confuse them. He caught the second Reaper with a web and hauled it up the tree as well and when he was done, he had two Reapers tangled up in webbing halfway up the tree.

"Now, are you going to tell me or not?"

They glared at him but neither of their eyes began to glow. He wondered how that worked.

They both exploded into dust.

Peter sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

And he was still in the middle of nowhere only now the Reapers' words were echoing in his head.

 _I'm dead._

Again, he took to the trees, ignoring the pain in his arm, eyes sharp on the constant look out for people.

 _I can't be._

* * *

This wasn't at all what Loki had thought the afterlife would be like. It was far from being Valhalla though he figured he would end up in the halls of Hel if anywhere at all.

He'd certainly come close to death before. When he'd failed to destroy Thor and in a moment of weakness, gazing up into his brother's desperate gaze and Odin's filled with disappointment and pity, and he'd let go. And again when he'd stabbed Kurse on the Dark World to save Thor. Thinking back on it, he really should have thought that through more.

He brought a hand to his throat where the bruises were still vivid and painful. He could still hear the sharp crack, though that part had been surprisingly painless.

It occurred to Loki that he had died for nothing. Not to save Thor, not even to protect the Tesseract. Had he really died just to make a point?

A few years ago, he would have laughed at that. His younger self would be sorely disappointed in what he had become.

But it didn't matter anymore.

Twice they'd been attacked by Reapers and both times they'd managed to repel them. His companions grudgingly accepted him after that, even Strange though that cloak of his kept swaying in Loki's direction as if a single wrong move would send it over to strange him.

The whole situation served to fuel Loki's anger. What was the point of all this? This wandering aimlessly, this hopeful talk of finding others and of finding escape?

They were dead.

As they walked through the forest, Loki noticed something glinting with reflected sunlight. Stooping to examine it, he realized it was a twisted piece of metal with a jagged edge.

"Proof that we are not alone?" Wanda said when she noticed what he was looking at.

"That or our Reaper pals are litter bugs," Strange said.

"Hey, there's another piece over here," Sam added.

And after that, another, larger chunk of metal. The debris was strewn all over the place and as they followed the path it made, they found something else. Severed tree limbs, trees that were nothing more than charred husks, the smell of smoke lingering in the air.

Just ahead of them, a dark hulk rose over the tall grass. A hulk that Loki very much recognized. He broke into a run.

"Loki!" Strange called after him but he didn't stop.

It was possible.

If they were all dead, it was possible.

He burst into a clearing and slowed. Strange and Sam easily caught up to him and Wanda shortly after them.

Sam's eyes widened. "They're human."

"No," Loki said. "They're not."

Some of them wore armor and capes, but most of them were civilians. Men and woman and children. Battered and bruised and lost, making camp among the remains of their ship.

Loki started forward in a daze, knowing this was no illusion. And he wondered if _he_ was here.

People looked up at him as he approached. Eyes went wide and whispers were exchanged. People stopped what they were doing just to stare.

And then one man stepped forward, his dreads tied back, his clothing in tatters. And even though it was Loki the Trickster coming to greet him, he smiled.

Heimdall actually smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

" _The_ Heimdall? The dude from Norse mythology?" Ever since Sam had first put on those wings, his world just kept getting weirder and weirder.

"Yes. First Thor, then Loki, it would make sense the whole pantheon exists," Strange said. "Try to keep up."

Sam scowled.

"Loki," Heimdall said. "I never thought I would be relieved to see you."

Loki shrugged. "Or I you."

"I suppose this means you're dead too."

Loki faltered. "Yes, it would."

"And in the company of Midgardians." Heimdall's gaze swept over the small group and Sam found it very difficult to meet the god's eyes. "Much has changed."

"Well…not _that_ much."

Strange shot Loki a warning look.

"So, uh, Mr…Heimdall." Sam took a step forward. "What happened?" He let his gaze settle on the ruined space ship. Many Asgardians had gathered around and were staring at them.

Heimdall's mouth thinned into an expression of sadness. "Come. You can rest and I will tell you all that has happened."

Sam and Wanda exchanged a glance but he supposed these people were okay. They were Thor's people after all. Well, so was Loki, but he was the exception. At least, Sam hoped.

The four of them followed Heimdall into the camp. Tents had been erected from blankets and the ship had been salvaged for supplies. Asgardians huddled around campfires and parents held their children close. The sight sent a pang through Sam's heart. All of these people dead. Lost.

They found makeshift seats in the shadow of the ship and Heimdall sat with a weary sigh. Loki seemed unusually subdued, also seeming to be caught up in the plight of his people.

"Thanos attacked our ship as we were fleeing Asgard," Heimdall said.

"That, Loki told us," Sam said though he believed it more coming from Heimdall. "What I don't get is how that ship got here. And could we use it to get out?"

"Fly out of the land of the dead," Wanda muttered. "Sounds like a brilliant idea." Her tone suggested otherwise.

Heimdall shook his head. "She will not fly again. And even if she could, that avenue does not lead to freedom."

Strange sat back, folding his arms. "Thanos has won," he said. "He has all the Infinity Stones and he wiped out half of all life in the universe."

Heimdall's face darkened. "I saw his coming. But I had hoped we would have the strength to defeat him."

"It's not over," Sam said. "I refuse to give up this fight."

"And what do you intend to do?" Strange asked.

"I…" He wished he had a plan. "I don't know. But it's not over till the fat lady sings and I didn't hear any singing."

"Are you sure? I thought I caught a few strains as I was dissolving," Strange said dryly.

"I'm sorry, can't you see the future or something? Why don't you tell us what we should do?"

"That was with the Time Stone which is no longer in my possession and none of my visions showed me this place. I am as blind here as you are."

"Exactly. It's not over. Loki, you've been unnervingly silent. Do you have anything to share with the class?" They all turned to look at Loki who seemed too preoccupied with his thoughts to pay them any attention.

"Just that if you two would stop bickering, Heimdall has the solution to our problem."

"I wasn't bickering," Strange said.

"Neither was I," Sam muttered.

"There is a way," Heimdall said and he immediately had everyone's attention. "There is a gateway which connects this place to the living universe. If you can get to it, if you can open it, you take your lives back."

"Great," Sam said. "Where is it?"

"The where of it is easy enough," Heimdall said. "It's far to the north of here. It's how you're going to open it that's the problem."

"I take it it's guarded."

"By an army and at their head, the Ghost King who rules this place. It will not be easy."

"Even still, we go there and we fight," Sam said. "I mean, we're dead, right? What can they do to us? They can't kill us again."

"We can still feel pain," Strange pointed out.

"You're wrong," Heimdall said and his golden eyes seemed to penetrate them all. "We _can_ be killed. This place…it's not the afterlife of your mythologies. It is not Valhalla or Hel, Heaven or Tartarus. But neither does this planet exist on any physical plane. It exists in layers. You die here, you fall deeper and deeper into this world. You will be unable to pass through the gate. You will permanently be cut off from the living universe."

They sat silent after that, taking it in.

"Well, there goes that plan," Strange said. "Any more suggestions?"

Sam looked around at them all. The sorcerer, the witch. Loki. Heimdall and his Asgardians who were more refugees than warriors. Not for the first time, he wished the rest of the Avengers were here. Most of his career he'd spent fighting alongside Steve and there was nothing they couldn't accomplish together. But these people he barely knew. Hell, he'd even be glad to see Tony at this point.

"Are you sure that opening the gateway is the best decision?" Wanda spoke up, her voice stiff and her gaze fixed on her hands which rested in her lap.

"If you'd rather stay, that's certainly an option," Loki said.

Sam ignored him. "At the moment, it's the best one. We can't stay here."

Wanda bit her lip. "What if…we were supposed to die?"

"Are you serious? Thanos just wiped out half the life in the universe. That was _not_ supposed to happen. And if we don't get out of here, _he wins_."

"Don't you ever get tired?" Wanda said and finally met his gaze. "All of this fighting and destruction?"

Sam couldn't believe he was hearing this. "We aren't done yet. Not until Thanos is defeated. This here, it's a setback. It has to be. We weren't supposed to die. Doc, you saw _something_ at least. Say something."

The fact that Strange hesitated made Sam's heart skip a beat. "I'm afraid I can't."

"So…that's it?" Sam looked from Strange to Wanda and back. "We're just giving up?"

"I for one am all for any plan that gets us out of here," Loki said.

"We're not giving up," Strange said. "We will defeat Thanos."

"Saw that in the future, did you?" Loki said.

Strange straightened in his seat. "It's one of many possibilities and I will do anything and everything in my power to make sure that's the one that comes to pass."

"Yet you've seen nothing of this place, no way for us to get out of this mess."

"Unfortunately, I haven't."

Loki leaned back. "Pity."

Strange scowled.

Sam sighed. "All I'm saying is that it's too early to give up. As long as there's a chance, there's hope."

"Hope?" Wanda scoffed. "Hope for what? A better world? A world in which the wealthy and corrupt are in charge and aliens invade on a regular basis. Where people depend on us yet hate us all the same. A world without –" She stopped suddenly.

Sam closed his eyes and slowly opened them. So that was it. It was about more than her words implied. "I'm sorry, Wanda. I'm sorry that we failed to protect him. But _we're_ here so it's possible –"

"No." Wanda stood and red energy crackled along her fingertips. "He's not."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," Wanda said through gritted teeth. "Vis wasn't human. He wasn't born. I don't know if he even had a soul." Tears welled in her eyes.

"Wanda, look, I'm sorry. But you _can't_ – Wanda!" It was no use as she turned and stormed away, hands clenched into fists. Sam stood, thinking he could talk sense into her or at least calm her down. Whatever Vision was, there was still the possibility that he had ended up here. Sam cursed himself for not saying anything sooner, for not realizing what she was going through.

Strange put out a hand to stop him going after her. "Leave her. She won't go far."

Sam bit his lip but there was nothing more he could do. In his carelessness, he'd already done enough.

* * *

It was almost easy for Gamora to forget she was dead. With all her aches and weariness and the heat, she was beginning to have her doubts though the Reapers made sure to remind the slaves of it at every opportunity.

Gamora hadn't seen Groot or Mantis since she'd been put to work though she hadn't had much time to look for them. She hoped they were making plans of their own because it would be a lot easier to escape if she wasn't the one doing all the work. And they _would_ escape. She'd already determined that the laser could cut through her shackle in about a minute or two and she could steal a scythe. The only problem was, she was vastly outnumbered. Which meant that phase one of her plan was, unfortunately, make friends.

"Um, hi," she said to the woman next to her, a human with short hair who was intently focused on her own laser. When the woman didn't reply, Gamora tried again. "Have you been here very long?"

"I already have a girlfriend," the woman said without looking up.

Gamora sighed. Okay then. "Do you want to get out of here or not?" She'd never been very good at making friends.

The woman snorted. "You must be new."

It took extra concentration not to mess up her work. "I'm serious."

"No one gets out of this place and if they did, they'd be captured before they'd gotten a mile beyond the fence. Work here for a few weeks and you'll lose any ideas of escape."

Gamora gritted her teeth. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd encountered an oppressed people content to stay that way. Slaves and prisoners who'd lost hope and were only concerned with their own survival. But now that she needed someone with a fighting spirit, that sort of attitude was annoying.

"Fine. You want to stay in hell, be my guest."

The woman snorted. "This isn't hell. Not even close. But it will be if you go around trying to recruit."

"I would rather die a dozen more times than remain a slave to these creeps."

"Then do try to escape. You'll get your wish."

The laser slipped a millimeter out of the guidelines and Gamora cursed. "What do you mean?" She wondered if anyone would notice.

"I mean, that just because you died once, it doesn't mean you can't die again. And each death takes you closer to true hell. You keep this up, that's where you're going."

"That's never stopped me before." Regardless of the consequences, she couldn't not try. Not if there was the slimmest chance of getting out and seeing Quill again.

The woman shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Distracted, Gamora ruined her second plate in a row. "Damn it, this is pointless! Why do they keep us as slaves anyway? What do they need with all of these?"

Sighing, the woman switched out her plates and continued her work. "It's for the Ghost King's palace. He's the one who rules this world and he certainly can't do that without the luxury of a slave-built palace." Gamora could almost hear her rolling her eyes.

"Ghost King, huh?" Sounded important. Gamora swore that when she got out of here, she wouldn't stop until she'd planted a dagger in his neck. See if _he_ liked this world's hell.

* * *

Wanda knew that she was acting like a child, but she couldn't help it. She'd managed to get away just in time as the tears began to fall.

It wasn't fair.

Ever since waking up in this world, she'd wished she'd hadn't woken up at all. She didn't want some afterlife but everyone's talk of escape had only made it worse. She didn't deserve to go back, to live again. Because she'd failed when Vision had needed her the most. She'd failed to protect him and when Thanos had come to claim the Mind Stone, she'd failed to destroy it permanently. All she had managed to do was ensure that Vision died in vain.

She'd failed.

And the worst part was that her first thought upon waking had been relief. Relief that she still existed. But no matter what anyone else said, Vision wasn't here. If he was, he'd have found her by now. The fact that he didn't just confirmed her suspicions. When Thanos had torn the Stone from his head, he'd ceased to exist.

Wanda wiped the tears from her face but they kept coming. She remembered the first time Vision had kissed her, the look on his face when he'd found her in a motel in Scotland after the Avengers had turned on each other and she'd fled in the aftermath. And the trust in his eyes when he'd told her to destroy the Stone.

 _"I just feel you."_

She didn't know what to do.

Wanda tried to get her tears under control when she felt someone's mind close by. She immediately knew that it was no one in their group and she leaped to her feet, spun around, and summoned a cat's cradle of psionic energy between her hands.

A red and very startled figure dropped out of the trees, hands upraised. "Whoa, whoa, don't shoot!"

The outfit and that voice were familiar but Wanda didn't lower her hands. "Were you spying on me?" It was that spider kid, the one Tony had recruited. Shooting him wasn't entirely out of the question.

"What? No. I wasn't spying. I just got here and I didn't want to disturb you, you seem like you're having a really bad day so I just, uh…sorry." Without his mask, he looked a lot younger than Wanda had originally thought. "Oh, hey, I remember you. You're that freaky lady. No, I didn't mean freak." He closed his eyes. "God, what is wrong me?"

Wanda wasn't sure whether he was looking for an actual answer or not but she decided he was harmless.

"Anyway, I'm so glad I found you," the kid said. "This forest goes on forever. Oh, uh, we're cool now, right? After the whole Captain America vs. Iron Man thing?"

Wanda lowered her hands. "We're cool."

"Great." The kid smiled. "Oh, I'm Peter Parker, by the way. We never really got to the introductions what with all the fighting."

"Wanda Maximoff."

"So, uh…is it just you or is there anyone else or…?"

So much for having a moment to herself. "There are others. Come on."

Peter fell into step beside her as she returned the way she'd come. She tried discreetly to wipe her eyes dry and wished they weren't so red.

"Have you seen Mr. Stark around here?" Peter asked in a voice that was both desperate and hopeful.

"No." Wanda wasn't sure how she would react if she ever saw him again. It had been two years since they'd parted ways.

"Oh." Peter's shoulders slumped.

Suddenly Wanda felt so selfish for storming off like she had.

In a few minutes, they arrived at the camp and Peter's eyes widened with recognition.

"Dr. Strange," he said.

To Wanda's surprise, Strange smiled and approached. "Peter Parker. I'm glad to see you're safe."

Peter beamed.

"Hey, you're that spider kid," Sam said and an expression of unease crossed his face.

"It's Spider-Man, actually," Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry about the whole sticking you to the floor thing. But it was a fight, you know."

"Yeah. I know." Sam didn't smile.

"We're cool, though." Peter tried for a disarming smile.

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, uh, who's your friend," Peter said to defuse the tension.

Wanda realized that Loki had joined them, silent and observing and smirking infuriatingly.

"Loki Odinson. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

Peter's eyes threatened to pop out of his head. " _The_ Loki?"

"The one and only."

"No, but I mean… _the_ Loki."

"Yes." Loki's smirk faltered.

"Like, _the_ the Loki?"

"The answer's not going to change any time soon so if you could stop fangirling over the criminal," Strange said.

"Sorry."

"Hey, are you okay?" Sam murmured for Wanda's ears only.

"I'm fine," Wanda said, wishing again that she hadn't let her emotions get the better of her. She had to stay strong but the look Sam sent her was concerned.

"There are people who need your help," Peter said. "Mantis and this green lady and also, there's a tree thing. They were taken by these really creepy dudes that look just like grim reapers. I know it sounds weird, but I swear it's the truth."

"Reapers aren't hard to miss," Sam said. "Fought a bunch of them a little while ago."

"Okay then. So, rescue mission?" Peter said hopefully.

"It won't be so simple," Heimdall said. "If your friends were taken by the creatures, they will be in one of the slave camps, well-guarded."

"Slave camps?" Strange said.

"It's where all captured souls are taken."

"We're going to get them out, right?" Peter said.

"We can't leave them there," Sam agreed.

"And how do you propose we free them?" Loki asked.

"We'll come up with something. Heimdall, do you know where any of the slave camps are?"

Heimdall nodded. "There is one not too far from here."

"Great. Point the way and we can –"

An explosion cut him off and plumes of dust coalesced into hooded figures. Scythes gleamed and children screamed and a ball of black energy engulfed one of the tents in flames.

 _No_. Wanda's hands glowed with energy and Strange summoned his mandalas and Heimdall drew his sword.

"Warriors, to me!" someone shouted from within the fray. "Defend your families! _Fight!_ "


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Heya peeps! Sorry for the unannounced hiatus. Life got a little hectic so I wasn't able to get back to this until things settled down. Adulting sucks, I wouldn't recommend it. Anyway, I'm going to try to write more though I probably won't be able to update as often as I'd like. However, this story _will_ be completed before Avengers 4, at any rate, even if it kills me.**

* * *

Inevitably, boredom overcame anger. The tasks the slaves had been assigned to were tedious and repetitive, if physically grueling. But if they did their jobs, if they harbored no plans for escape, the Reapers left them alone. They were given bunks to sleep in and food to eat. That was another thing. It seemed that even though they were dead, they were not beyond bodily needs. Gamora found it irksome. Especially since the food wasn't all that great.

At first, it had seemed like no one was at all interested in any plans of escape to the point where no one even wanted to talk to her. If she initiated eye contact, the others simply turned and walked away. When they were shackled in the line, she was studiously ignored. But elsewhere in the compound, out of the corner of her eye, she would occasionally see a hard glance directed at the Reapers when they weren't looking. Groups of slaves murmured amongst themselves in urgent tones though Gamora could never make out the words. But what became clear was that the Reapers did not have an iron hold on them all as they thought.

Sometimes, though, an example needed to be made.

Despite the fact that the sun never seemed to move, Gamora was heading for the bunkhouse when she heard a cry. Both hands immediately went to her hips before she remembered she no longer had any of her weapons.

Her gaze darted across the yard and landed on a mother clutching her child even as a Reaper was tearing them apart. The child cried. She couldn't have been more than five years old.

"Hey," Gamora said, crossing the yard. "Hey!" But they ignored her. One Reaper dropped a jagged blade at the mother's feet and grabbed the back of her head, forcing her to look at it. And even though the words were lost to Gamora, the meaning was clear.

The woman had planned to escape but her method of defense had been found. She didn't even whimper at the harsh treatment, setting her jaw and taking it though tears were streaming down the child's face.

"Let her go," Gamora said. She wasn't going to let her lack of weapons deter her. One of the Reapers noticed her and made an angry, shooing motion at her. It wasn't her business. Just walk away. No one else was interfering. They gave the scene a wide berth, heads low, ears closed to the commotion.

Gamora licked her lips and tried again. "Let her go. She won't do it again."

"Possession of a weapon is not tolerated," one of the Reapers said, stooping to pick up the jagged blade. A broken cutter from the looks of it. "And no, she won't." In a movement too quick for Gamora to stop, the Reaper buried the blade as deep as it would go in the woman's chest, right beneath the sternum.

The woman took a sharp breath but couldn't let it out. Her knees buckled and Gamora wanted to run to her, to pull the blade out and press her hands to the wound. But it was already too late. The woman's skin was turning gray and began to flake and then she collapsed into a pile of dust.

Down to the next level of the world of the dead.

None of the slaves reacted. The child continued to cry, more for the mother than for herself even as the Reaper turned toward her, blade still in hand.

Realization dawned and Gamora lurched forward, nearly shoving the child to the ground in her haste to put herself in between her and the Reaper with the blade.

"Move,' the Reaper said.

"No." Oh, how she wished she had her weapons. " I can't let you hurt this child."

The Reaper made to yank her away but she stood firm. And in that instant, she remembered another child who'd lost her mother. Herself, so long ago. She wished that someone had stood up for her then, someone who could have taken her away so Thanos wouldn't.

Her heart was pounding, her muscles tense, and she glared with as much murderous rage as she could muster. She was a Guardian. Daughter of Thanos. Warrior. She would not back down.

And though the Reaper had no face, she thought she detected a glimmer of uncertainty.

She wasn't going to be nearly so hard to break as the others had been

* * *

Bucky winced when the woman died. He was debating whether of not to do something when the green alien rushed out in defense of the child. It was something he hadn't yet seen in any of the slaves. There was a fire in her eyes that hadn't yet been quenched.

Interesting.

* * *

"All I'm saying is, you could lighten up a little, your Majesty," Quill said. "Maybe smile every once in a while. Add a splash of color. That necklace is cool though, you should definitely keep that. Have you ever thought of using swords? A couple of them, strapped across the back."

"He does not need swords," Drax said. "He has claws."

"Yeah, but it's the look of the thing. It'd be cool."

"The Black Panther does not exist to be cool," T'Challa said, his gaze still fixed on the perimeter fence. "I exist to protect my people."

"Still. Couldn't hurt." He'd been prodding T'Challa for a couple of hours now but nothing and no one was harder to push than him. And he was so stoic. Grim determination but no anger. No rage. Quill wondered how he did it.

Just then, Bucky came out from between the buildings and scaled the fence as quickly as he'd done the first time, landing quietly in the grass. Quill still wasn't sure what was going on in that man's mind, he was difficult to read.

But they were all tense, expectant, as he approached.

"A lot of slaves in there," Bucky said. "A lot of guards too."

"But we can take them, right?" Quill said.

Bucky looked from Quill to T'Challa. "We just might be able to. A lot of the slaves, they're broken. Resigned. But some of them haven't given up yet."

"Enough?" T'Challa said.

"Maybe."

"So what are you trying to say here?" Quill asked.

An expression like anticipation flickered across Bucky's features. "I think with a little pushing, those guards are going to have a full-on revolt on their hands."

Quill nodded. That was what he wanted to hear.

* * *

There were so many more than they had fought at one time only now they had civilians to defend. Strange forced himself to remain calm and steady the way he had learned at Kamar-Taj, and to keep his wits about him. He created whips of energy and snared several Reapers at once, allowing an Asgardian to herd a group of children away from the fighting. And then he yanked them into the air to crash into their companions in a jumble of bony limbs. They didn't manage to rise before Wanda reduced them all to dust.

Strange shot her a glance to see how she was doing. It was obvious she was tiring. Her attacks weren't quite so effective anymore or so widespread.

They needed to end this. And yet the Reapers just kept coming.

A Reaper rushed him and he ducked, bring up a shield to block the scythe that came down on him. Of its own volition, his cloak pulled him sideways and through the air just as a second Reaper plunged its scythe into the space where he'd been standing. The scythe caught the first Reaper in the ribs, turning it to dust, and Strange caught the second with an energy whip, decapitating it. He never lost his stride. What had once been a hindrance, he had learned to work with and he and the cloak worked as a single unit. Most of the time.

He hovered over the battlefield, found an Asgardian in dire need of assistance, and swooped down. Tao mandalas summoned, he intercepted the next swipe of a scythe and knocked one of the Reapers back. A bullet took it in the head as Sam swooped in low.

"Doc, there are too many of them." Sam shot another couple of Reapers in quick succession. "They're going after the civilians."

"I can see that." Strange spun and sent a lance of energy into the chest of a Reaper ten feet away.

"Can you use your portals to get them to safety?"

Strange gritted his teeth. "If they're together, I can get them through en masse, but only someplace I've been before and I can't send them off world."

"I'll see what I can do. Just send them as far away from here as you can."

"I'll need a distraction." Strange dodged a blast of black energy.

"You'll get it."

A second blast of energy slammed into Strange and he gasped. The world became a jumble of images and then he was on the ground and something was burning and he couldn't move. He realized that his cloak had wrapped itself tightly around him and when it let go, he saw the scorch mark across the fabric.

"Good to know you're so resilient," he grunted, getting back to his feet.

"Doc, you okay?" Sam came in fast, landing with a stumble.

Strange waved him off. "I'm fine. Just go."

Sam hesitated only a second before taking off again. Strange straightened, trying not to wince at the pain in his ribs. It wasn't sharp enough for a break. Probably just bruised. He looked around but didn't spot the Reaper who had hit him and figured Sam must have gotten it.

It was rapidly becoming difficult to tell what was happening amidst the chaos. Sam was gliding around the battle, shouting orders. More and more Reapers converged on Strange and it was all he could do to keep them back. He ran across the body of a fallen Asgardian just as it collapsed into dust. A Reaper charged at him and he quickly spun open a portal which swallowed it and across the site, that same Reaper fell two hundred feet to the ground.

"No!" Peter's voice, shrill. Strange spun just in time to witness another Asgardian fall. A mere second too late, Peter crashed into the Reaper who'd done it.

But somehow, Sam was doing it, getting everyone who couldn't fight into one area. Strange caught glimpses of Loki holding back the pursuing Reapers. Using his illusions, he'd duplicated himself and each copy slashed dual daggers at the Reapers with ferocious speed and each Loki bore an identical exhilarated grin.

And then Strange dove back into the fray. He reached for Peter who's expression was one of panic. "Peter, he's gone." The Asgardian had met a quick death, at least. There was nothing left of him except the dust coating the grass and turning it gray. "Get up. Go with Sam. Protect those who still need it."

Peter seemed to be steadying himself, projecting an air of control he obviously didn't possess. Trying to be strong. "Sorry, Doc, I just –" He stopped, nodded. "I'm on it." He took off.

Strange took a deep breath and deflected an incoming bolt of energy. Another Reaper came in low and his cloak caught the Reaper's scythe mid-swing, trying to rip it from its owner's grasp and slightly choking Strange in the process. Another scythe took him in the arm and he recoiled, dropping his shield.

He needed to retreat.

He shot into the air, barely missing another bolt of energy. A scythe suddenly flew at his head and his cloak swept over and wrapped around the blade, ruining its trajectory. Without the Cloak of Levitation, Strange fell back to the ground and his bruised ribs flared from the impact.

Instinct took over. Strange's hands moved in intricate patterns, gestures forming as fast as he could make them without sacrificing their integrity. Pain exploded in his back and he staggered, one knee buckling.

A cold blade slid beneath his chin and he raised his head, watching the eternally grinning Reaper through watering eyes.

"The Ghost King will not object the loss of a single slave," the Reaper said.

An explosion of red light knocked Strange backward and when he clambered to his feet, every Reaper in the immediate vicinity had turned to dust.

Wanda's hands were still raised and she had a single cut across her forehead. "Get the portal open," she said. "I've got this."

There was no time to argue. His cloak returned to him and he dashed through the air in the direction of the Asgardians. Landing lightly, he immediately set to work, drawing the portal in the air with his fingers. Sparks flew and he visualized the meadow where he had first woken up. Rolling green hills. Wind sweeping the grass in rippling waves. The inside of the portal reflected the image in his mind.

"Everybody in. Quickly!" he said and Sam repeated the order, herding everyone toward the portal. Asgardian men, women, and children, all those who couldn't fight. And as they fled, the Reapers gave chase.

Wanda and Loki moved fast to intercept them and between Loki's illusions and Wanda's psionic energy, everything was chaos. Loki was currently disguised as a Reaper and taking out several by surprise. Strange caught a glimpse of Heimdall swinging his massive sword. But Strange needed to focus most of his energy on keeping the portal open.

A Reaper made it past their defenses and rushed him only to get yanked back by well-aimed threads from Peter.

A large chunk of debris from the ship hurled through the air, crushing a dozen Reapers and leaving a deep furrow in the earth. Clods of dirt sprayed in every direction. A blast of energy slammed into Wanda and the engine part she'd been lifting crashed back to the ground.

Strange quickly scanned the battlefield. Sam was busy dodging attacks left and right. He didn't know where Peter or Heimdall were. Very few Asgardians were left who could fight. Loki started toward Wanda but a hard blow sent him flying.

Strange bolted to where Wanda was struggling to her feet, clutching at her side. The pain was obvious in her tense features.

Activating his mandalas, Strange deflected an attack aimed at Wanda and delivered a blow to the Reaper's wrist, severing it with a sharp crack. Strange grimaced.

"Get to the portal," he ordered and helped her up. She hissed at his touch and he wished he had the time to examine the injury.

"I can keep fighting," Wanda protested with a gasp.

"You're wounded." Strange glanced over at the portal. Most of the Asgardians had already fled. "It's time to retreat."

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her in the direction of the portal and to his relief, she gave no further protest.

Heimdall met them as they reached the portal. "Everyone is through." There was a cut on his arm oozing blood and his sword was gray with dust.

"Great. The two of you, in." Strange let go of Wanda.

"What about you?" Wanda said.

"I'll be right behind you." He drew a length of energy through the air and faced the surviving horde.

Bolts of webbing tangled up several of the Reapers and Peter flipped through the air, yanking them off their feet. He landed in a crouch at the portal and those Reapers that were clambering back up were hit with a barrage of bullets.

"In," Strange said again. "I'll make sure none of them get through.

"Hey, we're not letting you fight alone," Sam said, his wings folding smoothly behind his back.

"Yeah. We fight, we fight together," Peter added.

Strange sighed. "I'm not fighting alone. We're all going through that portal right now. I'm just going through it last."

"As much as I hate to miss out on a fight…" Loki said with a shrug.

"He's right. Come on, all of you," Heimdall said. He helped Wanda through the portal and into the hills, closely followed by Loki.

A Reaper reached the portal and Strange snared it, his energy burning through the Reaper's cloak. He forced another back and Sam shot a third. Peter hesitated and then bolted into the portal.

"Right behind us," Sam said sternly and then fled.

Strange slashed a Reaper across the face with an energy blade and kicked it hard in the sternum. He turned, reached for the portal.

Something hit him from one direction and then the other and blackness slammed down on him. When his eyes snapped open, only seconds had passed. He immediately noted through the pounding in his skull and the fiery pain in his ribs that the portal was gone.

He had no time to notice more than that as a bolt of energy shot toward him, followed quickly by another. Pain exploded in his shoulder and he gasped. It was all he could do just to deflect the incoming attacks. He shielded himself from a blast of energy and felt something slice into his back. Spinning, he grabbed the blade just as the Reaper went for another attack, conjuring a barrier around his hand to protect it from that sharp edge. The Reaper yanked the scythe away and the blade dissolved into hundreds of tiny, black stones which rained down onto the grass.

Rage lit up the Reaper's eyes and it backhanded Strange hard across the face. Strange staggered. His vision blurred and he blinked to clear it and caught another blow to the gut, another after that to the leg.

He was starting to think he'd been foolish to stay so long. He should have been faster through the portal. He tried to lift off, to find a clear place where he could reopen the portal before they attacked him again but a thrown blade caught him and he crashed back to the ground. He glanced back, noted the weapon as it returned to its wielder's hand. The curved, black blade, shaped for throwing, reformed into a more traditional scythe as soon as the Reaper caught it.

There was no time to ponder that small detail. The horde never ended and Strange waved his hands, formed a bubble shield to deflect the next barrage. And with a quick, snapping motion, he sent the force field exploding outward. It plowed into dozens of skeletons and the sound of their bones cracking and clattering set his teeth on edge.

Stumbling, every part of his body on fire, blood dripping down the side of his face, he leaned heavily against a tree and raised his shaking hands. He forced himself to focus, forced himself not to look back, as he drew a circle of sparks in the air. _Just focus on the meadow. Hills. Peter and Sam and Wanda and Loki and the Asgardians. Nothing else. Just that._

The portal opened and he lurched through, collapsing on the other side.

"Doc!" Sam shouted at the same time Peter yelled, "Doctor Strange!"

Strange rolled over onto his back and managed to partially sit up. Already, he was tracing the outline of the portal. Recovered from his attack, the Reapers charged but with a snap of golden sparks, the portal closed just in time.

Strange laid back down and let out a relieved breath.

"Doctor?" Wanda crouched by his side. "Are you alright? Why didn't you come through the portal sooner? I knew it was not a good idea."

"Yeah, well…lesson learned," Strange mumbled.

"You okay, Doc?" Sam's expression was concerned.

Strange waved a hand lazily. "I'll be fine." He was already starting to get his breath back and even though he really didn't want to, he sat up. He wiped at the blood on his face.

"We should move," Loki said. If he was at all affected by their near miss, he hid it well. "No doubt they will have a means of tracking us and I would rather not be here when they arrive."

"He's right," Heimdall said. "It could take them a few hours, but they will find us. We must keep moving."

"Where?" Wanda said. "Where could we go? How can we stay ahead of them?"

"We head for the gateway," Sam said. "Get out of here for good."

"And you have friends to rescue," Heimdall said. "Get to them first. And then you can march on the Ghost King."

"What about you?" Peter said.

"I am needed by my people. In the absence of their king, I will be in charge of keeping them safe." Strange didn't miss the brief glance he sent to Loki nor did he miss the pained, almost guilty, look that flitted across Loki's face.

"Well, we're back where we started, at any rate," Wanda said.

Strange sighed. "I'm on it." He still had a few more spells up his sleeve. Climbing wearily to his feet, he opened up another portal to the woods, careful to set it a few miles from the site of the battle.

"It will not be easy," Heimdall said.

"So you've mentioned," Strange replied.

"Just make sure to utilize everything at your disposal to defeat the Ghost King." Heimdall held out his hand. "And good luck to you."

Strange took it firmly in his. "And to you."

One after another, the three Avengers, the Asgardian prince, and the Sorcerer Supreme stepped through the portal.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Okay, so I didn't finish this before Endgame, sorry. I still plan on seeing this through and after all the feels Endgame gave me, I need more time with these guys.**

* * *

Gamora finally managed to locate Groot and Mantis. The two of them had been put to work on the opposite side of the compound and she only spotted them by happenstance while she was doing some unauthorized sneaking around.

Now she approached them at dinner, forgoing her usual spot in the middle of the compound.

"Gamora!" Mantis' antennae quivered with joy as she sat down but the emotion gave way once again to anxiety. "I worried something bad had happened to you."

"I'm fine." Gamora looked down at the unidentifiable gruel in her bowl and internally amended that statement.

"I don't like it here," Mantis said, antennae drooping. "They're making me connect with the other slaves to see what they are feeling. In case there are any who want to escape."

Gamora pursed her lips.

"A lot of the slaves hate me now."

"Did you tell them the truth?" Gamora thought of that woman and her child.

"I tried not to but they could tell when I was lying and they hit me."

"I am Groot," Groot said sadly.

"They won't get away with this," Gamora said, keeping her voice down. "We're going to get out of here. _All_ of us, all the slaves."

"But how?" Mantis' eyes lit up a fraction.

"We start a revolt. Get the prisoners to turn on the Reapers. I know they're not all as beaten down as they seem."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"We be discreet. We go after the slaves who've already shown resentment toward the Reapers."

"I am Groot."

"It'll have to be enough. It's not like we have many options here."

"I am Groot."

"If it's not? Then I don't know. You got any better ideas?"

"If there are not enough people interest in fighting," Mantis said, looking down at her hands, "I can always make them interested.

Gamora wasn't sure what to think of that. It was probably pretty unethical but if the alternative was an eternity of enslavement… Gamora stood up, leaving her meal barely touched. She wasn't very hungry anyway. "We'll come back to that one. I want to try talking to them first."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, well, we all hate it here." Gamora grabbed her bowl. She saw one of the Reapers watching from across the yard and grimaced. He'd be over here quickly if she didn't head back soon.

"…I am Groot," Groot added sadly.

Gamora sighed but there was no use in getting angry about it. "I'm sorry they took your game."

She left then, dumping her bowl and returning to work, but constantly with an eye out for anyone she could recruit and only breaching the subject when no Reapers were around. At the end of the day, she was convinced it was a daunting task but that she could do it.

With the sun hardly seeming to have moved at all since her arrival, Gamora walked back to the bunkhouse. The path was strangely deserted, not a Reaper to be seen.

"You'll need more help than you've got to break out of here," said a low voice behind her and she spun, instinct causing her to assume a defensive stance.

"Relax, we're on the same side. Just try to look normal." He wasn't anyone she'd seen before. He was human, and scruffy at that, but she noted the metal hand and wondered if the whole arm beneath the sleeve was like that. The alloy looked expensive.

"And which side is that?" She didn't like the idea that her plans might not have been as discreet as she'd thought.

"The side of the slaves," the man answered. "They'll have their freedom."

"You seem confident. You have a small army we can make use of?"

The man smirked. "As a matter of fact, I do. I have friends outside the compound. A joint attack from without and within might confuse the Reapers. They won't know who to go after first. That should give us enough time to get everyone out."

"So how many on the outside are we talking about?"

"Including me…four."

Gamora raised an eyebrow. "They must be some friends."

"They are."

Gamora remembered thinking the same of her own team. Drax, Mantis, Rocket, Groot…Peter and even Nebula. What she wouldn't give to see the rest of them right now.

"Just send word when you're ready." Already the man was heading off. Probably didn't want them being seen together by a Reaper. "I'll be around."

Gamora didn't trust him. She didn't think he worked for the Reapers, but surely he had another motive. People usually didn't risk themselves to save strangers.

Like that mother and her daughter.

Being raised by Thanos didn't usually result in a kind heart and yet that's what she'd gained. Mostly. And yet look how that had ended. At least the child survived (if it could be called that in this place), though she'd been left traumatized. To Gamora's surprise, a few of the slaves had taken to caring for her, making sure she ate.

The Reapers would certainly pay for what they'd done.

* * *

Peter had long since lost all sense of direction in the woods. After emerging from Strange's portal, they'd started walking in the direction Heimdall had indicated and Peter wondered if they were anywhere near where he and Mantis and the others had been attacked.

He should have known as soon as he'd seen the first Reaper that he hadn't been miraculously revived. He hadn't been transported to some other planet.

Even now, with everyone and everything confirming it, it was so hard to believe.

His first thought was that Aunt May would be crushed and guilt washed over him. He hadn't even had a chance to see her once everything had started. But she was smart. She would have seen the spaceship on the news and when Peter never returned home, she'd put two and two together.

He had to get out of here. For her if nothing else. And it was becoming apparent he couldn't rely on Mr. Stark to help in this situation.

"When you make that face, everyone can tell what you're thinking." Peter looked up to see Wanda approaching on his right side.

Peter tried to hide his self-consciousness with a shrug, wondering just how much she could read from him.

"You're young to be an Avenger. How old are you?"

Peter shrugged again. "Sixteen."

"Some would say that's too young." There was an edge of wistfulness in her voice that made Peter wonder how long she'd had her powers for, if she too had been learning them as a kid.

"I can handle it, if that's what you're getting at," Peter said and he tried his hardest to believe that it was true. "It's just…it's my Aunt May. She didn't exactly take the news of me being Spider-Mad as well as she could have. She worries. And now I've gotten myself killed. She'll die." _If she isn't dead already,_ whispered a tiny voice he forced himself to ignore.

"It's not about being able to handle it," Wanda said. "It's about how long you can keep it up. But you're still a kid. You have family. I have no one."

Peter almost wasn't sure he'd heard right. "No one?"

"I never knew who my parents were. For the longest time, it was just me and my brother. But he died too. And now Vision's gone."

"I'm sorry," Peter said, "but we still might find him."

She was shaking her head before he finished the words. "No. He's not here. I know it in my heart, he's not here." Then she turned to him and the grief in her eyes turned to steel. "I'm telling you this because you should be able to decide for yourself if it's worth it. If being a hero is worth losing the ones you love."

Peter slowed, allowing her to pull ahead of him. He'd wondered that sometimes, himself, if what he did was worth it. Of course, up until now, he was just a friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man. He fought bank robbers and saved people from getting hit by cars. His own safety hadn't factored much into it, let alone May's. He wondered now if he wasn't just extremely selfish.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he walked right into Wanda. He was about to ask why she'd stopped but the words died in his throat.

Dr. Strange was standing very still, stiff as if he'd been turned into a statue.

"Hey Doc, you okay?" Sam said, tapping him on the shoulder and Peter's heart thudded because, coming around to look at him, that was not the face of someone who was okay. Eyes wide, jaw clenched, he looked like he was straining against something.

And then he spoke, but the voice he used wasn't his own.

"I can see why it's taken the lot of you so long to die," he said. "You've given my Reapers a run for their money, certainly."

"Ghost King," Loki said, slipping a dagger from his sleeve.

Strange smirked. The expression looked wrong on him. "Clever trickster. But you're all in my realm now."

"Trust me, we're doing everything we can to get out of your hair," Sam said.

"Which is precisely why I'm here. I couldn't help overhearing your little conversation and I'm afraid your plan's no good."

"Excuse me?" Sam said.

Strange put his hands together. It seemed that the Ghost King had now gained full control. "I propose a new plan. You stop fighting me, forget about being the heroes. Not here, not in my domain. And I'll let you go. Hell, I'll even open the gate for you and you can all resume you're regularly scheduled lives."

"Just like that?"

Peter was with Sam on this one. It sounded like a trick.

"Just like that," Strange confirmed.

"And our friends?" Wanda asked.

"They stay."

"Then so do we."

Strange's expression faltered. When no one said "just kidding!" he said, "You're serious."

"As a heart attack," Sam said.

"All of you?" Strange's cold gaze fell on Peter.

"I'm, uh, I'm with them," he said.

He switched his attention to Loki. "Surely you, with your reputation, would rather save your own skin than risk it for them?"

Loki snorted. "Ordinarily, I'd take that deal. If I were more trusting. And no one ever offered a truce if they thought they could win."

Strange frowned. "That's really disappointing. And I was having such a good day, too."

"Yeah, well, join the club," Sam said. "We're not taking the deal so if you could just get out of our friend, we'll be seeing you shortly."

"Oh, you won't." Strange snapped his hand out and a tendril of gold wrapped itself around Wanda and slammed her into a tree.

Sam's gun was almost out of his holster before another wave of Strange's hand sent it careening through the air.

"Friend, you called him?" Strange's face contorted evilly. "You were going to shoot him." Then he rose into the air and drew his hands in patterns, tracing lines that coursed with energy.

With a gesture, the energy shot outward.

Peter was blown off his feet and tumbled through the air, the world spinning. He managed to land in a crouch though he hit the ground harder than he'd expected.

Loki was the first to recover. His daggers fell into his hands and he was already up and running before anyone else had regained their feet. He sliced one dagger in a fierce arc at Strange's chest. It rebounded off his shield and Strange spun in the air, aiming a kick which Loki dodged, and then followed up with a tendril of energy which wrapped itself around Loki's throat. He gagged as he was dragged off his feet.

The tendril suddenly vanished and Loki fell to the ground. Red energy crackled all around Strange and his eyes narrowed and standing opposite him, hands held before her, was Wanda.

"Let him go," she said through gritted teeth.

Strange merely smirked. "Or what?" He lashed out, energy collided with energy, and Wanda barely avoided the blast aimed at her. At that moment, Peter shot a bolt of webbing directly at Strange's face and Sam dove, catching Strange and plowing them both into the ground.

Loki rushed over, daggers raised to pin Strange to the ground.

But before he reached him, a powerful blast sent Sam hurtling through the air and Strange rose once again, the webbing ripped off his face. Little bits of it hung from his temples and beard.

Sam quickly regained control and fired a couple of shots which Strange caught in his shield. But before Sam could shoot again, his gun writhed and turned into a snake which reared back to bite him. He dropped it with a gasp.

With Strange's eyes off him, Loki created several duplicates of himself and sent them to batter at Strange's defenses while the real Loki searched for a vulnerability.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who knew that trick and soon several Stranges were surrounding them, throwing the illusory Lokis hard through the air where they slammed into the ground and trees and vanished. Wanda ripped up a sapling and threw it right into the horde of identical sorcerers. Some of them dodged but some were hit and vanished. Then Wanda hurled energy at them. A portal flickered open, swallowing one of the energy bolts and an instant later, it went flying back at Wanda. Peter grabbed her at the last second, swinging in a low arc from the trees.

A second bolt of energy slammed into them and they both crashed into Loki who hadn't been able to get out of the way in time.

"Sorry!" Peter said.

"This isn't working," Wanda panted.

"We need to stop him using his hands," Loki said. Peter had noticed it too, that most of Strange's spells had been preceded by gestures.

"I can do that," Peter said, jumping to his feet. He sent a web up into a tree and hauled himself up just as Strange sent another energy whip at Loki. Loki parried it with a dagger as, in mid-flight, Peter shot two bolts of webbing at Strange. The webs snared the fingers of his right hand and whatever spell he was trying to perform died. He glared up at Peter who yelped a quick "Sorry!" as he swung past.

Sam tried to draw Strange's attention away from Peter but the sorcerer rose quickly through the air, avoiding the attack. Peter swung from tree to tree and he shot another bolt of webbing which Strange swerved to avoid.

"So, like, does that mind control work on the cloak too?" Peter wondered. "Does it even have a brain? That's so weird." He was well aware that he talked during combat out of nerves but he couldn't help it.

Peter didn't even see the spell that hit him. He crashed into a tree with a grunt and scrambled to orient himself as he fell, but the bark peeled away under his fingers and he slammed into the ground. When he looked up, shaking the daze away, he saw Sam lying on the ground, maybe unconscious, and Loki was nowhere to be seen. Strange still had one hand encased in webs but that wasn't enough. He floated a couple of feet off the ground, free hand outstretched, and opposite him was Wanda with both arms held before her, red energy racing across her skin. Rocks and dirt and plants had been lifted into the air in a cloud and the air shimmered between the two. Wanda's face was scrunched in concentration and Strange wasn't blinking. Neither moved and Peter allowed himself some small hope that Wanda would win this.

"Snap out of it," Wanda said and Peter could hear the strain in her voice. She wouldn't be able to hold it for long.

Peter tried to get up, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

"You're being controlled! Fight it!"

Stumbling to his feet, Peter thrust out both wrists, aiming not at Strange's hands but at his eyes. He needed to break his concentration, give Wanda the edge she needed to take him down.

A single wisp of web shot halfheartedly from Peter's left web-shooter before being carried off on the breeze.

Crap! Dropping his hands, Peter disconnected the empty web cartridges. Had he brought extra web fluid? He tried to think but it had been so long since he'd left Earth. When he'd gotten on the bus that day, he hadn't anticipated this.

"You're stronger than this," Wanda went on, oblivious to Peter's dilemma. "Fight him. Or maybe you're not worthy to hold the title of Sorcerer Supreme."

The rocks and dirt and plants shifted. The air wavered. It all collapsed inward, converging on Dr. Strange but instead of burying him, it suddenly exploded outward. Wanda screamed. Peter ducked as debris went flying past, some of it pelting his head and chest and arms.

Strange flew back up into the sky, his eyes aglow, both hands free now and weaving complex patterns of light in the air.

Peter pulled a single vial of web fluid from its pouch.

A fiery disk formed in the air and a cascade of raw, burning energy flew straight toward him.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey there. Sorry the updates are so few and far between. Mostly that's because for some reason I will never fathom, I thought it would be a good idea to try working on a million projects at once, haha... _*cue manic screaming*_ Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was actually quite fun to research. All the same, I am by no means a medical professional. If anyone reading this just happens to be one, feel free to point out anything I got wrong. And thanks for reading :)**

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Mangione's "Feels so Good" was playing. Strange took steady breaths and let the music focus his attention on the task at hand.

"He got in," Lister said.

"To M.I.T.?" Roefeld's response sounded slightly more surprised than probably what she was aiming for.

Strange finished his incision in the dura and set the scissors aside. "Ben's a smart kid. Congratulations. Suture."

"I didn't mean it to sound like that," Roefeld said apologetically.

As he worked, Strange couldn't help but feel that something was off. He couldn't even pinpoint what it was exactly. Were the lights not as bright as they should be? Was his gown very subtly the wrong shade of blue? He tried to shake off the uneasy feeling building inside of him. He'd performed this procedure so many times he could do it in his sleep yet now he faltered.

He couldn't actually remember starting the operation. He was standing there, looking down at a partially exposed brain and yet he couldn't even remember removing the bone.

"You alright there, Strange?" Roefeld said.

"What? I'm…fine." He had to snap out of it. "I was…thinking."

"Uh-oh," Sanchez muttered.

"Do you need someone to take over?"

Strange blinked. "No. No, I'm fine." With the dura out of the way, he handed Roefeld the suture scissors. He missed her taking them and handing him the next instrument he asked for. "Was I…doing something before this?" Had he spoken to Christine earlier? What time was it?

"No. It's your first surgery of the day. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I can get Palmer in here."

"I'm fine," Strange bit out. Only he wasn't. Why couldn't he feel his legs all of a sudden?

"You died before this, actually," said a voice that didn't belong to any member of his team. "Well, technically."

Strange furrowed his brow. "You're not supposed to be awake." For some reason, it was getting harder to focus, harder to get the words out.

"If only you were this skilled in all your endeavors," the patient said.

"What?"

"I'm only saying I expected better. Giving away the Time Stone? Quite a risky maneuver."

This wasn't happening. Green light crept into the corners of his vision and he blinked it away. Leaving his position at the patient's head, he walked around the operating table until he could look at the patient's face and found the Ancient One staring serenely up at him.

"Really, Stephen. And you call yourself Sorcerer Supreme?"

That's what he'd been doing. Strange remembered now. He shouldn't be here, he hadn't worked at the hospital for nearly two years. He…

Looking down at his gloved hands, he noticed how steady they were.

"I was with someone." There were images now. Tony Stark accusing him of recklessness when he refused to back down from the fight. The kid. He…

Wrong memory.

He was in a field.

"Did you see this?" the Ancient One asked. "In one of your fourteen million possibilities, did you see this?"

No one else in the theater seemed to notice their conversation or how weird the scene was. None of them noticed the gold, sparking portal that opened up next to the anesthesia cart. On the other side of the portal was New York shadowed by heavy clouds. Wind lashed rain against the buildings and Strange could smell the fresh, ozone-laced scent of it.

"I didn't see any of this." He'd come to rely so much upon his magic, had it become a crutch? In every possibility where he survived, Thanos won. In every possibility where Thanos retrieved all the Stones and accomplished his goal, he won. Save a single instance. But in every universe he snapped his fingers, the coming five years were a mystery to Strange. Even in the one he so desperately wanted to come to pass, he didn't know how the remaining Avengers reversed the Snap and brought everyone back. He had to have faith that they would.

Except that in his visions, death had been but the blink of an eye. Was this supposed to happen? Was any of it? Did he still have a part to play that he had not foreseen?

The PA system came to life and a cool, female voice spoke overhead. "May I have your attention please. A stage three code brown situation is in effect. All staff, please follow code brown procedure and await further instructions."

The wind howled though it disturbed nothing inside the theater, not even a single square of gauze. And even though it was New York, even though this sort of thing simply didn't happen, a funnel cloud appeared just beyond the apartment buildings and touched down.

None of this was happening. This wasn't right.

"Why did you become a master of the mystic arts?" The Ancient One came to stand beside him and she was no longer clothed in a simple hospital gown, now wearing her yellow robes. To his relief, her skull was intact as if the surgery had never taken place. "You learned how to heal your hands. You could have gone home. You could have returned to your life here as a world-renowned surgeon. Yet you stayed."

"I realized there was more than one way to help people." Looking back, Strange couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he had decided to stay during his training. He just knew that as much as he loved surgery and as much as he missed it sometimes, knowing what he knew now…there was no going back.

"Well you're not going to help them from here," said the Ancient One.

The tornado was tearing down the middle of the street. Cars, torn up store fronts, and street signs spun through the air, made their way up and up and up before flying full speed in every direction. Car alarms blared and the wind howled.

Strange and the Ancient One were alone now, the other doctors and nurses having left, forgetting any surgery had taken place.

Steeling himself, Strange stepped through the portal. Suddenly wind whipped at his robes and the Cloak of Levitation, forming about his shoulders, helped keep him grounded.

He was on the roof of the hospital. Wind hit him in the face so hard it was difficult to keep his eyes open. Behind him, the portal closed.

Taking a step toward the storm, Strange planted his feet firmly and focused on a spell. Weaving his hands in precise and complex patterns, he built up energy, feeling it come to him easily. Then he released it.

The wave of energy materialized and swept over the buildings straight into the storm. Strange felt something buckle but he held on as hard as he could, pushing that energy forward.

The wind died slightly. The tornado slowed though it didn't stop entirely and even the debris slowed mid-flight. He hadn't quite stopped time but he'd come close to it.

He would have been relieved and set to work taking the storm apart except that he shouldn't have been able to do that. He no longer had the Time Stone.

A face formed in the clouds and Strange's heart sank. Spanning several city blocks, eyes glowing violet, was Dormammu.

"Sorcerer," Dormammu rumbled in a voice Strange could feel deep in his bones. "Have you come to bargain?"

Lightning bounced between the clouds, Dormammu's eyes glowed with cosmic fire, and his mouth opened impossibly wide as if to swallow an entire city block.

But Strange remained calm. He knew this wasn't real, that he wasn't really here, that Dormammu was still locked away in the Dark Dimension. All the same, he figured it best to play along.

He enveloped them in the Mirror Dimension. Shards of images like reflections in broken glass surrounded them. Dormammu shut his mouth.

"No bargains today, Dormammu," Strange said. "There's somewhere I need to be."

The fragments didn't all reflect New York. Between a red SUV and a pigeon taking flight from a telephone line was a flash of green, the edge of a knife. Squeezed between buildings were trees. Grass broke up the image of asphalt and a police car crawled behind a haze of unnatural spider web. No, he wasn't meant to be here at all. He could feel it now, the press of another mind against his own. Sensing that he was gaining lucidity, whoever it was pushed harder.

All that did was make him angry. _Nobody_ presumed to control him. He was the Sorcerer Supreme and it was his job to protect people. Even death hadn't changed that.

With a twist of his wrist, Strange sent the hospital spiraling up and to the side, propelling him straight for one of those shards. In response, nearby buildings warped and disassembled as several blocks folded inward.

"No!" Dormammu stormed and bright raw energy shot through the sky at Strange.

Strange pulled up a shield just in time and energy sprayed over its edges. The roof he'd been surfing crashed at an angle into the shard, shattering it.

"The real Dormammu was stronger," Strange said. If he was being honest with himself, he was immensely relieved that was true. He wasn't sure what would happen if he died in this dream but he sure didn't want to find out.

Dormammu made a wordless sound of anger and more energy flashed his way. He twisted and ducked and thrust out his shields to deflect the incoming attacks, recalling another time when he'd been on the defensive as Mordo showered him with blows.

Glass windows shattered and the fragments flew through the air. Strange blocked most but one sliced him in the arm.

 _"Stop resisting,"_ a voice hissed.

Strange called a nearby apartment building which bent but did not break, and blocked Dormammu's next flurry of attacks.

"Then get out of my head." Strange pushed and the top half of the building flew toward Dormammu as the bottom half straightened out horizontally and stretched across the road. The building crashed into Dormammu and shattered, debris raining down in the form of hail, pattering the pavement and surrounding rooftops.

 _"There's no use in fighting."_

A piece of debris struck Strange in the shoulder and he staggered. His shields flickered out. With a crash of thunder, the storm resumed, wind whipping dirt and rocks and glass and shrieking like something alive and in terrible pain. Strange was almost thrown off the rooftop from the force of it and the suddenness. Even then, his feet were slowly sliding backwards.

Dormammu made a sound that could only be interpreted as a laugh.

Strange tried to blink the dust from his eyes, too busy keeping himself upright to shield them. At the edges of his vision, he saw the shards. There was a kid. He wore a red and blue suit but his face was bare and in his expression there was fear.

"You're right," Strange said. He lowered his arms. The wind threatened to tear the Cloak from his shoulders. Dormammu misinterpreted his gesture as one of defeat and his mouth split into a wide grin.

The Ghost King laughed.

Strange kicked off from the roof. Immediately, the wind caught him and yanked him aside. He let it, closing his eyes as he tumbled through the air. Pieces of buildings pelted him and he cracked his eyes open just in time to see a skyscraper falling toward him. With a wave of his hand, he coaxed its surface into carrying him, with the wind still pulling him along.

The building crumbled from the base up.

With a last manipulation, Strange curved the top floor of the building so that when it disintegrated, he fell straight toward one of the shards.

 _"No!"_ The voice cut off abruptly.

Something large and hard slammed into Strange a moment later, sending him crashing into the grass. All sorts of pains sprouted up and Strange gasped. Scrambling out from under half a tree, he caught a flash of red as Wanda tore two more out of the ground and prepared to throw them with her energy.

"Stop." Strange stumbled. He held up a hand. "I'm not going to fight you." Taking in their surroundings, it looked like it had already been some fight.

He could still feel traces of the Ghost King's presence in his mind and he clenched his teeth. He was going to pay for that.

"Stephen?" The rage faded from her eyes and she lowered the trees to the ground.

"He's gone." Strange slowly straightened, trying to get his breathing under control and still holding both hands out so they wouldn't suspect a trick.

Something grabbed his left hand and pinned it to a nearby tree. As hard as he tugged, he couldn't get it free. "Seriously?"

"Uh, sorry," Peter said, lowering the hand with his only armed web shooter. "You never can be too careful, right?"

Strange sighed. But as annoying as it was, he couldn't blame him. In fact, he probably deserved it. Even as Sorcerer Supreme, there was still much he needed to learn and among those things was how to resist a mental takeover.

He'd managed it eventually, but the damage had been done. Peter looked shaken and Wanda exhausted. Sam was helping Loki to his feet though the trickster looked dazed, probably from a blow to the head.

"That really you, Doc?" Sam asked, approaching. A bruise was blossoming across his cheekbone.

"Yeah." His struggle against the Ghost King manifested itself as physical exhaustion and Strange settled awkwardly on the ground with his pinned hand raised above his head.

"Good to know our enemy can control any one of us whenever he wants," Wanda said.

"I think I scared him off, for the time being," Strange said, keeping a wary eye on Sam who was trying to figure out how to cut through the webbing.

As soon as he produced a wickedly sharp knife, Peter hurried over and proceeded to explain exactly how to get through the webbing and that it was going to take a while.

Strange sighed again and resigned himself to an uncomfortable few hours.


End file.
